The Greatest Magic
by Five Minutes Til Bedtime
Summary: There was something missing in the walls of Hogwarts; Harry seemed to be the only on to realize it. One-shot. For music lovers.


Title: **The Greatest Magic**

Summary: There was something missing in the walls of Hogwarts, Harry seemed to be the only on to realize it. One-shot. For music lovers.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Word Count: 1660

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><p>Sometimes, Harry really missed muggles.<p>

Not the Dursleys, of course. Harry could go his whole life not ever seeing them again and be perfectly happy. Other people, though. That one girl who worked at the diner near the tube and always smiled at him even when he just ordered pop or that one kid who spent hours every summer riding around on his bicycle and filling the empty air with his shouts and hollers – them, Harry missed.

More importantly, Harry missed the things that came along with the muggle world. He missed the accomplished feeling he would get when he cleaned the house to such a standard that even Aunt Petunia couldn't complain. He missed the sounds of cars passing by his window late at night, the quiet voices of parents as they carried their kids inside on their shoulders, and the dull golden glow of the street lights outside. He missed the dull tele voices that had lulled him to sleep in his cupboard for the first ten years of his life, conjuring up fantastic stories behind his eye lids with the muted sounds of their thirty minute plot lines.

Most of all, Harry missed the music.

It had never stuck him how long music had been a backdrop in his life until he came to Hogwarts and was confronted with a thick wall of silence. Harry had never owned any music himself, but it had never been missing from his life either. There was always the quick jingles on the telle, the pounding music videos Dudley would tune into when he got older, the soft crooning of Aunt Petunia's radio as she dusted or had tea, the turned-down stations on the rare occasions that Harry was in his Uncle Vernon's car, the too-loud headphones of his primary school classmates, the ever rotating top-40 that played in stores and diners, the carols around Christmas, the choir of the church he passed on his walk home from school. Music was everywhere.

Everywhere but Hogwarts.

It didn't really start to bother him until half-way through his first year of Hogwarts and he was sitting in the library with Hermione that he realized, inside the library of not, the silence was everywhere.

And once he realized it he couldn't stop thinking about it.

The Wizarding World had music, of course, but it was ancient. All strings and piano and no voice or soul. There was radio but it was so rare and boring that no one bothered with it. There was nothing that made Harry want to get up and dance, as he had when he was little, shaking his body in his tiny cupboard room regardless if he bruised an elbow dancing in the small space because _not _dancing would be a travesty. There was nothing that caught in his throat and dragged at him so suddenly that the lyrics exploded from his mouth with no dam to stop it.

By third year, Harry had become so aggravated with the ever-present silence that when he was confronted with going back to the Dursley's for the summer he would comfort himself with that at least the music would return. He spent more time at his desk with the windows flung open, listening as girl across the street blasted out her music. He would take his time doing the dishes, content with the softly playing radio that he could listen too during the mindless chore.

The Yule Ball was a gross disappointment, as had the dance lessons that preceded it. Harry was a fair dancer, nothing formal but he knew how to move his body to a beat and let loose. The idea of stepping in a small circle to the wail of an ancient music player and an even more ancient waltz was laughable. Harry couldn't feel anything. His feet stumbled, his movements jerked. There was nothing pulling him. No soul. It was a disaster.

In fifth year, Harry took to humming. It was something he never would have done with the Dursleys, knowing that the slightest peep from him could result in anything from a lecture to a lost dinner. It started unconsciously. In the shower, as he was studying, while he walked down the corridors. He did it mostly while he was by himself with his attention distracted by other things. In fact, the habit lasted nearly half a year before someone called him on it.

Harry was in the Room of Requirement with the DA. He had finished his instructional part of the Patronus charm and was not merely walking amongst his peers, observing and offering the occasional piece of advice. They had been working on his particular spell for well over a week and everyone knew intellectually what they needed to do, now just needing the time to practice and do it. Harry had his hands clasped behind him, standing behind Luna and Hermione as they practiced. Luna had managed a large amount of white mist thus far while Hermione was not far behind. Harry, sensing that they were getting close, had paused between them to watch, not noticing at all that he was currently hummingunder his breath.

That was, until Hermione lowered her wand in frustration and turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"_The Lazy Song_? Really, Harry?"

Harry's humming cut of immediately. He felt scarlet race across the nape of his neck and crawl its way up into his cheeks.

"Um? You know it?" was all his blundering mind could come up with. Hermione shot him a look full of ire. "Unfortunately," the girl said, rolling her eyes. "Now shoo, I'm practicing."

After that, Harry no longer was oblivious to his humming and no longer hummed in private. Hermione seemed amused for some reason and would occasionally join in with him, even singing a few lyrics. Ron was lost, of course, but didn't seem to mind the extra noise.

And so it continued.

And so it grew stronger.

One day Harry sat down for breakfast and found Hermione quietly mumbling the words to Adele's _Rolling the Deep_. His own voice joined in without a second thought, together, they quiet voices mingled into one strong sound. They got a few odd looks but no commented.

A few days later, with Journey's _Don't Stop Believing_ on his lips and butterbeer making his insides warm, Harry danced foolishly down the lane of Hogsmead, laughing as Hermione and Ron stared at him with amused expressions.

At Christmas, Harry snuck Mrs. Weasley's radio out into the back yard and spent the night with Ron, the twins, Hermione, Bill, Charlie, and Fleur dancing around and sing along to the catchy Christmas tunes.

And it was still much to quiet but the quiet, at least, was not always there.

Hogwarts was still a place of empty air and long silences. Harry could never quite manage to combat the silence as much as he needed to. He had music within him, but no one else did. No one, not even Hermione, really understood.

Then one day – it happened.

It was a horrible day, terrifying. Harry found Draco crying in the bathroom and they boy had reacted before he could blink. Harry dodged the red light that shot from the blonde's wand and barked out the first thing that came to his mind.

"_Stupefy!"_

The blonde crumpled. Harry wavered between running for the door and running to the boy. Then something red caught his eyes and his heart stopped. There was blood leaking from beneath Malfoy white hair, staining the grimy white stone with a color far too bright to be real.

Harry was at his rival's side in an instant. He cast the spell to wake the boy up but the teens eyes merely blinked up, flickering unseeing around. Harry gently picked the boy up by the shoulders but the Malfoy was so weak he couldn't support himself and ended up laying against Harry's chest, mumbling incoherently.

"…I can't…father…Lord…so mad…"

Harry's heart tightened despite himself. A sudden burst of movement snapped Harry's attention up. He saw Moaning Myrtle staring at them in horror.

"Go get help!" he shouted at her. If the ghost could have, she would have paled, and she quickly shot out of the bathroom with the squeal.

Harry was left alone in the bathroom with a bleeding Malfoy mumbling incoherently and an all consuming silence. His panting and Malfoy's mumbles rebounded off the walls seemed impossibly loud, ever as Harry's ears rung with the lack of noise. Tears were running down Malfoy's face now, and the more he mumbled the more Harry felt he understood and felt sorry. He had to do something. It was obvious that Malfoy was in pain and Harry wasn't doing any good just sitting their holding him stupidly.

He did the first thing he could think of – the thing he always did when the silence got loud.

_Hey Jude_

_Don't make it bad_

_Take a sad song_

_And make it better_

_Remember to let her into your heart_

_Then you can start to make it better_

It was a song that felt ancient in his heart. Since he had been little, it was a song that had felt familiar, comforting – home.

Now he sang his song for Malfoy and for himself. His quiet voice struck out against the silence like a hot knife through butter. This had the tug, the pull, he had been lacking. This is what he had been missing.

When Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore burst into the scene, they were met with a shocking sight. Harry Potter, cradling a bleeding Malfoy to his chest, singing a slow song that instantly tugged at their heart strings. Malfoy stopped crying. For a moment no one did anything.

Then Harry noticed them and stopped singing.

The next day, as he woke up in the hospital wing from a cracked skull, Draco Malfoy felt the silence he had never notice before.

He started humming.


End file.
